


Interlude in an Abbatoir

by the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord



Series: Monster-Guy and Freak On a Leash - A Love Story [2]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Laughing Jack is fucking nuts, M/M, This is just a little bit o' something, and Jeff is sick of his shit already, it's for horrifik, who is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord/pseuds/the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of course it ends like this," the man-thing snarls, bending low over him. He can smell its slimy teeth. "You're a flying rat and I'm a crazy clown, but when we strip off our masks, it turns out we're the same guy."</p><p>"Aw, shit," Jeff says. "To top it all off, you think I'm Batman."</p><p>(Sequel to "The Sun So Hot I Froze To Death".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude in an Abbatoir

Jeff's always known that he's a target for the freak element, but this just takes the fuckin' cake.

He's been hounded into what feels and smells like an abbatoir by something covered in feathers. It ain't a bird, though. Birds don't whisper about how bad they wanna rape you.

He scrabbles around in his darkness for a weapon. His fingers close around what could be a hilt, and he lifts it up, feels how heavy it is. Slides his thumb along its length-the skin breaks. He's found a cleaver.

And not a damn second too soon, either.

The beast's heels announce it as it whirls around a corner. Jeff grunts as he heaves himself upright, holding fast to the cleaver like how a kid clutches its mother's hand. In his sightless, desperate mind, the thing is nine feet tall, with teeth too long and sharp for it to close its mouth all the way. He thinks it has claws as hard as flint, and hundreds of raw red eyes. 

And then it giggles-sounds like a hundred nails raining down-and speaks. Its voice is the whine of a saw buzzing through wood.

"You're soooooo pretty," it purrs. A man, Jeff thinks. He puts his head back and scents the air, smells candy and blood.

"You're lying, boy," he growls, raising the cleaver to chest height. "Why don't you come close? A little less distance might make you a better judge."

Again the hellish laugh. "Ohhh, baby, you haven't got any self-esteem worth speaking of. I've been watching you....my little cat on a hot tin roof!"

But it's nearer now. Jeff makes a silent prayer to the Lord and tenses his legs to leap.

"I'd like to see you for myself," he murmurs, "but then again, maybe I'd die of it."

"Wait, what'd you say?" the monster barks, sounding human all of a sudden. It takes two steps forward. Its sick-sweet stench is strong in Jeff's nostrils.

He jumps, swinging up the cleaver and bringing it down with the strength of both arms. It bites into the stranger's shoulder and makes a crunchy, wet sound. The damned thing flexes and screams. Disorientated, Jeff lets go the cleaver and stumbles backwards into something hanging from the ceiling-a split carcass, he thinks. It bumps him off his feet and sends him sprawling.

The monster doesn't sound half as friendly now. It staggers and coughs, spraying grume all over the floor.

 _If I die now,_ Jeff thinks,  _at least I can tell the devil that he should see the other guy. Oh, Toby, would that I had you here with me now...._

"Of course it ends like this," the man-thing snarls, bending low over him. He can smell its slimy teeth. "You're a flying rat and I'm a crazy clown, but when we strip off our masks, it turns out we're more or less the same guy."

"Aw, shit," Jeff says. "To top it all off, you think I'm Batman."

The thing kicks him in the stomach to shut him up. "I was gonna keep you, Jeffy," it hisses. It lays a long claw on Jeff's bared neck. "But you had to ruin yourself for me, didn't you? You're nothing but a worn-out whoreboy with a smart mouth. I could have a prettier version of you in a New York minute. When you're dead and buried, I'll shit on your-"

The monster stops talking. The claw leaves Jeff's throat as fast as a bird flying away, and its owner begins to choke-on what, Jeff can't say. Its gutteral gasps twists the air into knots. Jeff can almost smell his attacker's pain; he curls up into a ball and waits for his turn.

And it stops.

There's a new presence above him. It snorts with a lazy sort of amusement and rasps, "Y-you're not d-d-doing tooooo well, h-honey."

Jeff whimpers-"Toby?"-and springs to his feet. A pair of skinny arms wrap around him, a smile fits itself to his own mouth, and the whole world is a filthy, lovely kiss.

"W-we don't have muuuuch t-t-time," Toby whispers. "Walk ssstraight ahead f-for five paces turn riight, door's on the first l-left."

"There's a paedophile who hangs out at the playground five blocks from here, could make a good supper," Jeff replies. "Tell your boss that I'm mighty obliged for lettin' me borrow you. Keep your ass safe."

"St-stay gold, Ponyboy," Toby tells him. He squeezes him once, and is gone.

For once, Jeff's glad that the world always sees him smile-first. He's truly grinning for the first time in a long while, and he wants everyone to know it.


End file.
